


That You Do Unto Me

by avalonjoan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Churches, Gen, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Religion, Unrequited Love, getting real deep here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonjoan/pseuds/avalonjoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds Sherlock in a church, of all places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That You Do Unto Me

John stood outside the towering stone church, checking the address one more time, just to make sure he was in the right place. Hesitantly, he stepped inside, the smell of incense making him dizzy as the wooden door closed behind him. He blinked, adjusting to the dim light, and listened for the telltale sounds of Sherlock at work—muttering, mostly, interspersed with the occasional sound of dress shoes landing on carpet after an excited leap. He heard nothing, but he’d had Sherlock sneak up on him enough times to know that sound wasn’t the most reliable indicator of his presence.

He stepped into the nave of the church and instinctively dipped his finger in the small stoup of holy water and made the sign of the cross. He hadn’t been in a church in years, but he knew better than most that a Christian upbringing was difficult to undo. Well, Lestrade knew pretty well, too, much to Sherlock’s chagrin—the two had spent many late nights with Sherlock confused and frustrated with the DI’s seemingly unending guilt over every aspect for their relationship. John conceded that he understood as well as Lestrade, at least.

The church was seemingly empty, and for a second, John wondered if Sherlock wasn’t even there—he’d been surprised when Lestrade told him that the GPS on Sherlock’s phone located him there. He walked down the aisle, taking slow steps as he looked down each pew on either side of him; it wasn’t implausible that Sherlock had decided that the church was useful as a quiet place to nap or think or visit his mind palace.

But when John finally found Sherlock, he wasn’t doing any of those things. The other man was kneeling at the altar, head tilted upward with the kaleidoscope of light from the stained glass window spilling over his face. As John moved closer, keeping his steps as quiet as possible, he saw books open on the floor, surrounding Sherlock. Occasionally, Sherlock would bend down, flip the pages of a few of the books, and then straighten up, and John could hear the quiet murmuring of words.

“What are you doing?” John asked, sounding more accusatory and incredulous than he would have liked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The nicest thing I’ve heard you say about the Church is that it did some ‘nice things’ for music and art, but that everything else was—really, though, what are you doing here?”

Sherlock stayed kneeling, but turned to face John. “I’m trying to determine why people believe so intensely in the Church’s teachings—many religions use entheogens to induce mystical experiences, but I’ve ruled out anything in the incense or the water—still have to get my hands on the wine and wafers, but there’s also the possibility of classical conditioning or some sort of pattern of phrases used in the service—”

“You and Lestrade fighting, then?” John knelt down next to Sherlock, looking over all the books on the floor. He should have realized that he was investigating something—the idea that Sherlock might be praying or adoring or anything other than trying to puzzle something out was absurd.

Sherlock nodded, looking back up at image of the risen Christ in the glass. “I’m trying so hard to understand, but I just don’t see how something can be bad if it’s emotionally and physically pleasing—”

“Yeah, anyway,” John urged Sherlock on, preferring not to hear details or descriptions about just how pleasing the relationship was.

“I just don’t want our relationship to end because of something like this—because of what someone else has decided about its quality.” Sherlock took a deep breath and let out a shuddering sigh. He shook his head again and looked at John. “But if there’s nothing I can do to change his mind—I don’t know what else to do. I wanted to try to find out how this all works.”

John was silent for a minute, maybe more. “I think that may be the most human thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

With something that sounded like it could have been a snort of laughter or the choking back of tears, Sherlock closed the books on the floor and stood up. “We ought to head back, yes?”

Dusting off his knees, John nodded. Putting the church’s books back in their places and carrying Sherlock’s reference books with them, the two left the building and made their way back to Baker Street. When Sherlock moved to open the door, John stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”

“What?”

John stammered, the words suddenly much harder to find. Finally, he squeezed Sherlock’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “You’re not going to lose him over something like this.”

“And what makes you so sure of that?” Sherlock asked, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Because,” John started, sliding his hand down Sherlock’s arm to hold his hand firmly in his own, “He may be ordinary, but he’s not stupid, and he’d have to be stupid to let you go.”

One corner of his mouth curling up in a smile, Sherlock held his gaze with John for a moment before turning and heading inside the foyer. John watched the door close behind him, doing his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. He started inside, trudging up the stairs and stepping into the flat just in time to see Sherlock and Lestrade pull apart from a kiss, Lestrade’s fingers still interlaced with Sherlock’s hair and Sherlock’s arms around the DI’s waist. 

“I’m sorry,” he heard Sherlock whisper, and Lestrade looked as surprised as John felt at those words. Sherlock had never apologized—not without being told to.

Shaking his head, the other man replied, “No, no, I’m sorry. Let’s go upstairs.”

Sherlock nodded, cupping Lestrade’s cheek in his hand and pulling the other in for a kiss before letting him go. “Let’s. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Lestrade smiled at John as he passed him, heading toward the stairs. Sherlock took off his coat and hung it on the rack. He stopped next to John and, lowering his head to John’s ear, murmured his thanks and left the room. John didn’t move. As the warmth left by Sherlock’s breath on his skin dissipated, John shivered and pulled his coat closer around himself. Preferring not to sit by himself while Sherlock and Lestrade discussed and eventually made up, John turned around and left the flat.

Lestrade may have turned Sherlock into a good man, but he’d also made him Lestrade’s man. And John wasn’t sure he would have taken the first if he’d known the latter went along with it.


End file.
